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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593302">Peace Offerings in the Rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/faultyfriendofyours/pseuds/faultyfriendofyours'>faultyfriendofyours</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Lennison - Freeform, M/M, a touch of angst, but not really, george is just a bit mad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:27:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/faultyfriendofyours/pseuds/faultyfriendofyours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>tumblr request: lennison fluff however you wanna do it :)</p><p>John has upset George and brings pizza and beer to remedy the situation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>George Harrison/John Lennon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Peace Offerings in the Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John swore as he ran up the impossibly long driveway. The dark sky and pouring rain had surely stretched the walk out an extra mile, the ground lights he followed looking few and far between. To add to it all, he was shivering and weighed down by his heavy peace offerings. Fog and rain coated his specs until he was more blind with them than without but he didn’t really have the free hand to do much about it. In lieu of any sort of help, he continued his jog and trusted that following the row of lights would lead to George’s door. It all made him wonder why he was so stupid in the first place. Though, that must mean it was an effective punishment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With care to not slip on the steps, he finally made it under the safety of the stoops overhang. He was panting, the frigid air seeping into his wet clothes, but he took a moment to collect himself before assaulting the doorbell with his elbow. The ring of it was barely audible from outside, mostly drowned out by the water slamming against the concrete and roof. He bounced from foot to foot as he waited, in a vain attempt to garner some warmth. When no answer came, he elbowed it again, holding down for good measure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The click of the bolt in the door gave him hope and he stepped back. He smiled as it was pulled open. There was a dark figure in front of him, backlit by warm lights. Though he couldn’t see a clear shape to save his life, he knew the severely blurred outline was George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His teeth chattered as he said, “Beautiful night, isn’t it? Not a breeze to be spoken of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, Georgie. I’ve got pizza.” He held up the box that, unlike him, was protected by a rain jacket. “And beer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George only stood there, doing or looking like god knows what. John squinted to try and make any hint of good will out but failed miserably. The smell of weed drifted out the door and John hoped it’d do some good in his favor. It at least meant George would be hungry. A start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m blind as all can be, son. Can’t tell how cross you are.” George grabbed the beer and slid John’s glasses from his nose. He had the creepy-intense stare going that somehow managed to look angry and emotionless all at once. “So, very cross?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he expected a response, he didn’t get one. George turned on his heels and walked inside. John watched from the threshold, feeling uncertain. “You’re not a vampire, are you? Get in here and shut the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’d hope not.” He sauntered in with a new bout of confidence. “Got garlic sauce for the pizza.” He hung up his jacket and slipped off his shoes before venturing into the living room where George sat. A bag of weed was casually on display beside a smoldering spliff on the coffee table. “I see you brought the oregano.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indian-style music drifted from the record player as George looked up at him from his spot on the floor. As he took a drag from the spliff, John couldn’t think of a more George moment to ever have happened - save for him wearing his gardening gloves and being coated in dirt. It almost made his cutting glare less scary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you come ‘round to make jokes and stare?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jolting himself out of his daze, he scooted the bag with the edge of the box in order to have it take up space in the center of the cedar table. Still glaring, George took a slice of pizza and pulled a beer from the box. Though there wasn’t a single cue suggesting he had the right, John sat down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He handed over a bottle opener and made himself as comfortable as possible in his clingy clothes. “Is my charming gusto not enough?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George slouched over, rubbing a hand over his face. “Get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright! Okay. No more joking around.” Tentatively, he garnered George’s attention. “I’m really sorry, honestly. I was just upset you’d blown off the meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George raised a brow and took a sip of beer. “I skip meetings all the time. Never got a slagging off like that for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had not been the best day for anyone. The memory of it made John cringe. He had really laid into George at the studio. Went all in on the insults with everyone standing around just watching in horror. He hadn’t meant a word of it. And George was right, he really didn’t care if he skipped on the meetings. They were dull and boring and the opposite of everything George liked. So that only left the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well... “ it felt more than embarrassing to admit. “I was jealous, I guess.” He averted his eyes, scratching the back of his soaking wet head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jealous of what? Wait!” His voice went up an octave before breaking into a laugh. “No way you’re jealous of Ken.” John didn’t look up. “John! Come off it.” The beer bottle slammed against the table, finally catching John’s attention. George was bent over in a fit of giggles, holding the bottle hard against the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ken Mansfield had become buddies with George very quickly once his office was put in place in Abbey Road, leaving John a bit out of sorts. Maybe more than a bit. But that's beside the point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’ve been spending all this time with him.” John went on the defense but quickly relented, “I didn’t- It feels stupid now that I’m saying it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, ‘cause it should. Go get yourself out of those clothes before you drowned the carpet.” He was pointing to the hallway with his slice of pizza, amusement winning over annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When John returned in one of George’s jumpers, he pulled at the newly adorned sweatpants. “These are mine. When did I leave them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was laid flat on the ground but slowly pulled himself up upon John’s arrival. “I stole them ages ago.” When they were both sitting together, George handed him a newly rolled spliff. “Catch up. I’m one and one and three.” He gestured vaguely to his beer, ashtray, and pizza.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we’re good?” John mumbled the question as he lit up and took a drag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think your apology was finished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John narrowed his eyes and took another drag. “Fine. I’m sorry for saying you didn’t care about the band.” George looked on expectantly and John rolled his eyes. “And for saying Ringo could do lead guitar better than you.” He rushed through the words and turned to grab a beer. “Wasn’t that one just a given though? Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like pulling teeth for you, isn't it?” Taking up another bottle himself, he leaned back on his elbows, his knees pulled up to create a wall between them. “As I’d like to not be on the subject all night, I’ll exempt the rest of your offenses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slotting George between his legs, he pulled him closer by the tops of his thighs and rested his chin on his knee. “Thank you, my gracious one,” John feigned gratitude, though a lot of it was more genuine than he’d like to admit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you act up again, though, I might just have to sick Ken on you.” George gave a toothy grin as John pulled a face in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” John discarded his spliff in favor of pizza. “Been reading a book I think you’d like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George let his upper body fully rest on the ground but hummed in interest. “Tell me about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the night was spent in quiet conversation and periods of blissful silence. Even the buzz of the sitar that John usually didn’t care for all that much sounded sweet when in the company of George.</span>
</p>
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